Still 30 Days Without An Accident
by Peta2
Summary: Set in an Alternate Season 4 where Merle is still alive and thriving at the Prison. Carol always thought a Dixon would understand, she just never expected it to be Merle. MAROL Fic.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This story came about from sheer panic. It came about from a yearning so deep for _someone _to understand Carol's motives, and let's face it, Daryl is going to struggle with it. The only person I figured might get her, get why she did what she did, was Merle, and as I'm still devastated at the decision to kill him off, I felt the need to bring him back to the fold, and wondered what it might have been like if he'd still been here for Season 4. So, I bring you this. Blatantly MAROL, I make no excuses because as much as I love Caryl and Daryl, these two also make me hot!

Chapter One

"These people treat Daryl like a damned rock star and me like I'm invisible. Damn short memory some of these assholes have," Merle grumbled tetchily as he took a bowl of food from Carol, tucked it into the corner of his arm and started eating with the fingers of his good hand. She swept a glance across him, her expression curious about his sour mood, then turned a far more cheery visage his brother's way as Daryl strutted up to them amidst the morning calls of greeting—the ones that hadn't been so forthcoming for good old Merle, he acknowledged with a sneer—and Carol handed out a second bowl.

"Mornin', Jesus. You finished walkin' on water yet?" Merle eyeballed his brother, ignored the amused chuckle of the woman in charge of the grill, and didn't even bother trying to hide his irritation at Daryl's almost God-like status amongst the natives. And Carol. Fucked him in the head that this woman followed his brother around with warm eyes and gentle smiles, while most of the time she threw scowls his way that damn near chilled him to the bone.

She was watching Daryl now, showering the boy with beaming approval as he waded through the many greetings shouted at him across the little cantina and Merle growled with irritation. Her damned eyes were sparkling with humour and he just knew she was about to start to teasing Daryl. He groaned inwardly, dreading watching his brother flounder amidst compliments he was ill-equipped to deal with and the flirting he was even worse than a stunted runt about.

"Just remember," she said as she squinted through the bright sunlight at his baby brother, making Merle want to kick Daryl's spindly legs out from under him so he hit the deck before she said what he just knew was coming. Nothing he could do but wait for confirmation of what a damn hero his baby brother was and how, no matter what _he_ did for these people, he was still the shit that didn't stick to their boots. "I liked you first." And she didn't like _him _at all. She'd made that blatantly obvious again and again, even without slitting his throat like she'd promised. Not that he'd ever given her good reason—as if he was ever going to fuck shit up if it meant separating from his brother again—even if the little prick was turning into the damned Messiah or something.

Merle snorted at that. Daryl brushed off her flirting but Merle saw it for what it was—a crumb from a woman that would have eaten Daryl alive if he gave her half a chance. From where Merle was sitting, his dumbass brother was still to work that shit out so's he had even half a clue, but Merle...Merle knew what to do with that shit. He wouldn't sit like a stunted jackass if she threw her pretty words in his direction. He'd serve them back with molasses, spread that honey on thick so she slid out from under her cute little bravado and landed right square in his lap.

"Yeah, an' you best remember, bro, I never liked ya at all."

Daryl snorted a laugh, squeaked out a slim grin and Merle couldn't help but sigh away his bad mood. As much as all this hero worship bullshit pissed him off, he knew Daryl deserved it. Deserved a girl, too, if he was on the path of truth. Didn't mean he had to like the possibility of him getting this one. A little bloodthirsty thing like her weren't suited for someone like Daryl, but for him, he'd teach the little firecracker how to spark out all over the place. This one, he just knew, would set fire to his world.

"Don't go getting all jealous, Merle. I didn't spit in your breakfast this morning." She shot an impish grin at him then went back to her cooking while Merle's jaws came to a grinding halt. Huh. Well, he'd be damned if it didn't look like Carol had retired her usual scowl this morning. It made him feel all kinds of special.

"Guess that means you want me to get into your pants, then." He flashed a grin that displayed his perfect teeth before tucking his head down and scoffing the contents of his uncontaminated bowl, smirking at her raised eyebrow. Daryl was staring between them like he was uncomfortably out of some kind of loop, and he didn't approve in the slightest.

"Why, Merle, however did you guess?" She actually batted her eyelashes at him and he laughed, truly tickled at the effort. It was a long ass time since a girl did that to him, and back then it had come off only slightly more wicked than when she did it.

"I know your type, sugar tits."

"Merle." Daryl growled a warning but Merle ignored it. His eyes fell to the exact area where her breasts filled out her top and he was gratified to see her perky nipples appear. He licked his lips and then slowly cased her sweet curves back up to her eyes.

"And what type is that, Merle?" she pushed with nary a blush and he felt his insides heat up uncomfortably. He knew what type she was exactly. The type where if he could ever get her naked he'd be able to teach her how to come all night long. He'd bet his brother's crossbow that that asshat she'd been married to had never found her sweet spots. Never given her reason to scream in anything but pain. He could change that—if she ever learned to trust him.

"The type that's all prim an' proper in the daytime, but when the lights go out, turns into a proper hellcat."

All three of them froze at his daring but if Merle was back to that truth-telling game, he'd almost completely forgotten Daryl was even present as he watched a flush spread prettily from the woman's cheeks down to her chest. Her eyes should have been ice cold, but there was a fire there he wasn't sure he'd ever noticed in her before.

"Damn," she said at last when the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable and he noticed the rhythm of her breaths seemed a little off. "I didn't realise my claws were showing."

He leaned his elbows on the outdoor stove and stared straight into those baby blues and wondered how on earth one woman got every shade of blue in one pair of eyes.

"Only to me, sweetheart." He winked, handed her his empty bowl and started walking away, tossing a "gonna go kill shit on the fence. Lemme know when it's time for the run," over his shoulder and leaving Superstar Daryl to it. He chuckled as he walked away, images of hellcat Carol not for the first time visiting him at his happy place, altering his body chemistry until he felt like squirming while trying to reign in little Merle's enthusiasm.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Come on, I need to show you something."

Daryl stood back as Carol passed her egg flip over to the kid with glasses—the kid that gushed all over him and wanted to shake his hand to the point where Daryl thought he should either flip the kid off or toss him to the ground and kick dirt in his face. She headed away from him, not even waiting or looking back to see if he followed. Not that she'd had to for a long while now—wherever she led, he followed, like a trained little puppy that would piss himself without her little bouts of affection to guide him toward the right thing.

She picked up his jacket quickly as she sped by his bike, helping him into it one arm at a time as he kept shovelling down his food, and then they were staring out at the fences, at the larger number of walkers that were crowding against it.

"We had a pretty big build up overnight." He heard her voice, could understand her concern, soaked up her report and swore at the need to keep bodies on the prison grounds instead of doing the run to the Big Spot, but none of it was processing, too busy trying to make sense of the little interaction from before between her and his brother.

"The hell was that, anyway?"

She frowned and he wanted to reach out and smooth the little crinkle of lines created between her eyes.

"The hell was what?" she asked, obviously confused.

"Merle always speak like that to you? You don't have to put up with his shit. Just let me know an' I'll tell him to back off." He sucked his fingers clean, enjoying the salty tang of the meat and the sweet sour broth it was soaking in.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me anymore, Daryl. Besides, Merle's little more than a big, overgrown pussycat."

"I think you got your metaphors all screwed up," he said, feeling a bit sulky. "Thinkin' it's you s'posed to be the pussycat—claws an' all."

Carol grinned, looked across the yard at Merle and then looked contemplative. "Maybe you're right. You don't need to worry. I can handle Merle."

"Pffft. You _think _you can handle Merle. Handlin' Merle's like tryin' to wrestle a damn rattle snake."

Carol shivered and she seemed to zone out for a second, her eyes glassing over as she stared down into the yard where Merle was enthusiastically thrusting his knife through the fence while boisterously offering a running narrative to whoever would listen.

"Sometimes, Pookie, what a woman needs **is** to wrestle with a rattlesnake."

She'd gone before he even worked out what she'd called him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He was like a kid in a damned candy store. Merle had his list, just like everyone else, but it didn't mean he wasn't drawn to specific areas. The Big Spot was a treasure trove previously untouched and Merle was pleased as punch as he snagged up fistfuls of chocolate bars and girly mags. He was heading toward the booze when Hell started raining down on all their heads. In amidst all the fucking chaos, he lost sight of Daryl, but then the little prick popped up on a stacked display of beer cartons and Merle whooped loudly in appreciation. No point keeping on the down low when walkers were literally dropping from the sky. It was the look on Daryl's face as he looked up into the chasm in the roof, Merle following his line of sight and clashed with a huge motherfucking helicopter, the grin sliding fast from his face. The ceiling shifted, the bearings swaying ominously as everything weakened and he started screaming.

"MOVE!"

Daryl gracefully vaulted from the stack and jumped right into the middle of a bunch of walkers. Merle fought through his own growing pile of decayed skulls, one thrust at a time, shoving the corpses out of his way and trying his best to stay out of the line of the multitude of gunshots flying around the store. Most of them found targets in rotting heads and he was grateful that, even while farmer Joe was armpits deep in pig swill and bean shoots, the council had seen the value in continuing weapons training, otherwise he was sure as shit there'd have been a bloody massacre in the Big Spot that had nothing to do with a herd of walkers falling on their heads.

The young kid, Zack, was especially gifted with a gun, and Merle took a fleeting second to admire the size of the kid's balls as he shot a walker about to chomp on Daryl before guiding the rest back to try and wrestle Bob out from under a shelf. Merle added in some muscle, looking with loathing at all the shattered glass and spilled booze, inhaling deeply in the vain hope that fumes might give him enough of a buzz to get through this fucked up shit storm of a day. He was almost dazed, salivating, and luckily still standing by the downed shelving, vaguely watching as Bob the dumbass limped away, probably thanking his lucky stars the gutsy young kid reminded everyone he was still pinned down. Zack made to follow but then jerked back with a walker claw clasped around his ankle. Merle saw the biter crawling out from under the shelf, its brittle, half broken teeth on full display in the opened jaw. The fear in the kid's eyes spurred Merle into action, his knife flying through the wet skull so fast he ripped the head from its flimsy neck. Zack jumped out of the way as Merle flung the filthy brain bag off his blade, spitting after it in disgust, then dust and debris started coming down on all of them and they ran, a mother fucking helicopter suddenly slamming into the shop's floor right where they'd all been standing. Merle panted, grabbed Zack's shoulder to spin him around and check the boy hadn't soiled himself, then roared with laughter.

"Well, shit," he said, staring after the ruined building in disappointment. "There goes all your condoms, boy."

"Shit's right," Daryl agreed, kicking the outside of the building in a fit of surly temper.

"At least no one's dead," Sasha offered, joining them in commiserating over the loss of such a great range of supplies, leaving Tyreese, Glenn and Bob to stare miserably at the mess.

Bob looked guilty under Merle's intent stare, and Merle nodded, making it known he'd seen what had happened. Not that he could judge. He'd been there and done that with addiction, not that he'd managed to kill anyone with it yet. "An' that's more due to luck than common sense." He turned his evil eye onto the boy, and lifted his bloody blade, showing the grunge that had slid down it to stain his arm. "Never leave your back turned or your damn ass exposed. Biters don't always go for the throat." The advice was accepted with a quick nod and the kid expressed his gratitude by relaying the heroic tale all the way back to the prison. By the time Merle finally made it to his cell, his belly more full after a surprising offer of seconds at dinner from Carol than it'd been since he'd left Woodbury, his heart thumping a little faster with her secretive smile and blatant wink, he'd managed to be hailed a true hero by just about every able-bodied soul in the prison.

Merle lay back on his cot, one arm slung behind his head, knees bent and stared at the ceiling, a big ass grin stuck to his lips. Fuck, no wonder Daryl kept on doing the right thing. Feeling like a damn superstar was addictive. There was a soft clang against the bars of his cell. Enough to catch his attention, and he twisted to check out his unexpected visitor. He didn't usually get those—only Daryl or Officer Friendly when he wanted a favour regarding his precious crops. His favourite visit would always be when Carol came and threatened to slit his throat, He actually dreamed about that one most nights and it weren't no damned nightmare, neither.

"That's quite a smile, Merle Dixon. I think I might like it." Carol seemed to slink into his cell, taking a seat beside his bed and his gaze followed every fluid movement of her body as she settled so close to him he could sense her warmth. He found himself licking his lips without even thinking of it, his pulse speeding up as he settled back on the bed, imagining in his head her forgetting how much she hated him as she climbed right on top of him and straddled his lap, hands braced against his chest.

"I can think of plenty o' other things I can do you might like, darlin'."

She didn't shoot him down in flames, instead she raked her gaze up and down his body so thoroughly he felt like he was either naked or soon going to be and as excited as a damn adolescent getting his first hard on while he flicked through a skin mag too scared to get to the centrefold.

"Is that right? I was under the impression you were a 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am' kind of guy. Can't say I see the appeal when I'd probably get more satisfaction out of a mechanical toy."

Merle sat up fast, feeling his dick suddenly flood with blood and the result of that was the last thing he wanted this woman to see. Wouldn't do for the prison to start hearing gossip that one little taunt from those plump, pink lips, made him stand taller than a damn flagpole. Daryl would never let him hear the end of it.

"Don't go believin' everything my dumbass brother says about me," he said, and then suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy when she gazed deep into his eyes, catching a yearning there he was too late to hide. A gentle smile was his reward for being emotionally naked in that one unguarded moment and then she leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee while the front of her top dipped so low that she revealed an eyeful of her luscious curves. It was all he could do not to bury his face in her chest, the need almost overwhelming as it tugged at his gut, and while he was distracted with flyaway lust, she was murmuring something about his bravery and how grateful the group was he'd been there to save Zack.

"I bet Beth would even kiss you for it. I'm sure you'd get a hug at least." Her smirk was infectious and he shared it, though it floundered a little while he tried to nut out why she thought he'd give a shit about getting kisses or hugs from that little blonde girl what always had Officer Friendly's kid stuck to her hip.

"The fuck I want a kiss from her for?" He was genuinely confused, barely even thinking of the girl unless she started singing a song he recognised, though her too sweet tones usually killed the rawness he remembered from the originals.

Carol seemed to brighten right before his eyes. While he watched her carefully, baffled by this new attempt of hers to be a little more friendly, she leaned in further and shocked the shit out of him by kissing him swiftly on the lips.

She pulled back before he knew she'd been there, licking her lips thoughtfully and watching him with some new air of surprise. His heart felt funny, loud and thumping extra fast and his lids felt so heavy he could barely push them open.

"Because every hero deserves a kiss, Merle."

And then she was gone and he was left with a raging need for something he didn't even recognise.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This chapter has been a long time coming. I'm dedicating it to Imorca as hopefully the first chapter to celebrate her birthday. Happy Birthday, Chicka! I hope you aren't disappointed.

PS…If any of you are of the mind to review, you'll excite me no end!

Chapter Two

As soon as he heard the gunshots and screams, Merle knew there were walkers in the cell block. He didn't stop to wonder how or how many, he just thought of his brother, he thought of Carol, and the rest he thought of after as he rounded a corner and slammed into the Korean who was himself running straight to the cause of the chaos. In front of them he saw the back of Carol's head and his pulse got driven up so hard he almost stroked out while ripping Glenn out of his way so he could launch himself in after her.

Disaster greeted his eyes the second he made it inside D, faces he barely recognised now those of the turned, but he shut that out, shut out the macabre remains of people he'd known since Woodbury as he tried to cut them off before they reached the kids. He plucked one up off the floor, a snivelling, screeching girl, and he tossed her into a cell with Karen, almost being elbowed out of the way as Daryl did the same thing, though his little curly-haired parcel was passed with slightly more care than Merle could summon up inside of himself.

He grabbed Daryl's shirt front in his fist and yanked his brother around to look at him. "You seen Carol?" His voice sounded raspy, worried and Daryl's brow furrowed as he took a spare two seconds to contemplate the question.

"Think she's up there with Ryan. Looks like he got bit. She's probably gonna try to amputate." Daryl shrugged out of his grip and was gone, weaving in and out the danger as if he were made to thrive in this kind of world.

"Fuck." Merle raced off in the direction of Ryan's cell, marvelling that he actually knew exactly where that was, and barged in on the woman who was calmly—if not unemotionally—trying to handle the situation in a way that would limit the cost to their numbers. He could tell the exact moment she registered it was hopeless with the way her body slumped and the urgency slipped from her shoulders, leaving her sagged and overwrought as she tried to comfort the man.

"Shit." He'd seen the writing on the wall as soon as he'd seen Ryan shivering on the bed even as sweat coated his face, the virus already spreading into his system, shutting his vital organs down. The man had two little girls and Merle was pretty confident that Carol hadn't yet realised what was about to happen while she stood there, for all the world the perfect woman to take over the job of their parenting. Merle slumped against the cell door as his own body felt the force of failure. "What the hell happened in here?"

She looked up at him, her eyes haunted and tears and snot running down her face.

"Can you…can you go get his girls. So they can say goodbye?"

He caught her gaze, a quiver catching around his heart at how lost she looked, how vulnerable yet good she was as the implications of the situation finally hit her. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and left the cell, looking for Mika and Lizzie so they could come and bear witness as their father passed from the world. He kicked the shit out of the wall before he left, shoulders hunched, just barely hearing the dying request from Brian's lips that Carol adopt the little girls as her own. His heart sank, knowing without even listening that she'd say yes. When she did, Merle squeezed his eyes shut for a second, wondering at the depth of the pain such a request would cause her, then went to find the two girls like he'd been asked.

Once he'd delivered them to the cell, he lingered outside. Daryl, Rick and the others were going cell to cell, checking for walkers or dead group members. He'd seen the look in Rick's eyes, saw how glazed over with shock and denial they were, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth with irritation. He was pretty sick of the ex-leader's need to have everyone tread on eggshells around him, allowing him to graze in the fields like oblivious cattle while the rest of them put up with all the ugly shit this world continued to spit out.

Mika's cries grated on his ears and he looked in to see Carol trying to lead them away so she could do what always had to be done. Lizzie stopped her momentum, claimed the right to put her daddy down and even though Carol wavered uncertainly, gave her the knife, Merle could see plain as day the girl was gonna choke. Wasn't right that any of them should see this shit, he decided, before stepping back in to put an end to it.

"Gimme the knife," he demanded, his hand held out to Lizzie. She stared at him, emotionless and confused and a shiver of apprehension raced down his spine. He snatched it roughly out of her hand, and pushed her out of the way toward her sister. "Carol, take the girls outta here. I'll do it."

Carol nodded gratefully, her hand shaking as it seemed to float through the air and settle against his chest, glancing up so he could feel the emotional slam of her glistening eyes and watery smile of gratitude. Her palm barely glanced against him before she was peeling her touch away, taking a step back along with an extra deep breath. She ushered the girls outside the cell door then, and Merle made it quick. Ryan never got a chance to turn, and his girls didn't have to see it. And now, Carol was stuck with the sole responsibility of two little girls, shunted back into the role of mom again. He just knew that was going to hurt, and he didn't know how it was going to work out, what it would mean for the group—what it might mean for him. All he knew was that she was the best chance those girls had, he just wasn't sure how much of a chance that was at all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

He found her later sitting in a remote upstairs cell in D, crying her eyes out but trying desperately to keep it quiet. He stood in the doorway too long, waiting for her to notice him so he wouldn't have to speak. Tears on a woman had never fucked with him before, but on her it twisted his gut into a million knots. Daryl was off digging graves, and Merle was done with dragging bodies out of the cells and transferring them to the field. He was hot as fuck, grimy and in need of a shower, but first he wanted to make sure she was okay.

"The hell ya doin' in here?"

Her body jerked in surprise, but then she rolled over on the narrow bed and looked up at him, slowly sitting up while rubbing at the devastation on her face.

"We can't go back into C," she mumbled pathetically, looking away from him almost immediately like she was the one what was guilty they couldn't re-enter their own home. Like she was guilty of some shit he wasn't even aware of. " It's…some kind of flu. Looks like it started with Patrick, and now Karen and David are sick. They're in A right now."

"Death Row?" That seemed harsh, but strangely appropriate, he thought, fighting down an inappropriate chuckle.

"We've all been exposed. You, me, Daryl, the girls. All of us. We can't go back into C in case we expose Hershel and Judith, Carl, Beth and Michonne."

"That leaves an interesting defence if we all go down." His attempt at levity fell flat, her face twisting with the effort not to burst into a fresh round of tears and he was almost desperate to distract her before she did something he wouldn't be able to cope with at all.

"You shouldn't joke like that, Merle. We don't need anyone walking around here tempting fate." She stared at the cement floor, her elbows digging grooves into her knees as she rested her head in her hands, trying and failing to hide her aura of hopelessness from him.

"What you need is a pick me up," he growled in a mix of frustration and 'take-the-bull-by-the-horns' excitement. "Why don'tcha come along an' help me in the shower? Get all this blood and guts offa me before it crusts over an' I cain't move no more." He wiggled his brow at her and felt his heart pick up a suspicious half beat when she stared at him, then she barked out a chuckle with real commitment, a sparkle returning to her eyes.

"You're a big boy now, Merle. I'm sure you can handle that all on your own,'" she said even as a blush highlighted her cheeks and she suddenly found the cement floor a lot more interesting than he ever had.

"Now you got that part right, sugar. One day you'll get to see just how big. Butcha wrong on the other. Some hard to reach places are a bit difficult when I only got one hand to work with. " He smirked at her shocked gasp before quickly retreating.

"Don't forget," she called out before he'd gone too far and he stopped, enjoying how her smooth voice rang through the cell block. "You can't go back into C. Stop and call out to Beth to gather some of your clothes for you. She can bring them to the outside door."

Merle rolled his eyes before leaving the building. He stopped before making the connection to C when he spied those two little girls now about as good as Carol's standing down by the inner fence, staring out beyond the prison. They looked like lost sheep, one of them obviously almost hysterical and without even thinking he marched on over. If those girls were now under Carol's wing, then they'd likely turn into her little shadows and occasionally get passed along to Daryl as their next best father-figure. Just the thought of it made Merle growl deep in his chest, the sudden need to mean more in this equation doing little to calm him down.

"Hey," he called out to them, his pace quick and determined as he rounded down on them, the taller one winding herself up to what looked to Merle like a good old-fashioned panic attack. "Carol know you two are out here by the fence?"

Mika shook her head and Merle could see the grief buried deep in the girl's eyes, even as she tried to pull her sister out of whatever spiral she'd started to spin around in.

"He was special…and now he's dead," Lizzie cried out, attempting to twist out of Mika's young embrace and Merle's brows twitched in confusion.

"You mean your daddy?" he asked, kneeling down so he was more on level with the mites.

"Nick," she sobbed at him and his bewilderment grew.

"Who the hell is Nick?" He'd considered himself pretty good at keeping up with all the newcomers at the prison, but for all the able bodies his brother had dragged in over the months, he didn't remember even one called Nick, and even if he had, what the fuck were they to this little girl? Why would she be crying like the last link of her world had just collapsed right in front of her face?

"They killed him," she cried, her eyes roving back to the outer fence and right there Merle could feel a chill settling into his bones. He spun toward Mika, urgently seeking confirmation that her sister wasn't completely bat shit insane, and the little girl's wobbling lip completely arrested him and turned his blood ice cold.

"You tellin' me you're cryin' over some walker called Nick that's dead outside the fence?" There was no hiding his incredulity and he was glad to see that something approaching sanity seemed to snap back into the girl and she shrunk back against the fence fearfully. "It's your daddy that's dead today, girl. He's the one you should be cryin' over. Not some dead asshole you didn't even know."

Lizzie covered her mouth with her hands, her big blue eyes swimming with tears as she answered him with a nod so miserable he almost fell to his knees and wept to baby Jesus his own damn self, but then she fluttered away on light feet, running like the devil was chasing her ass across the yard and through the gates of Hell back into the prison.

"What the hell was that breed of hose shit?" he asked Mika, realising only belatedly that he might need to tone down his personality to these two as she shrunk fearfully back against the fence away from him, shaking like a new, fledgling leaf on the brink of springtime.

"She's just messed up," Mika confided and Merle snorted his disbelief.

"That ain't exactly Breaking News, sweetheart."

The little pipsqueak looked hard at Merle, harder than any kid he'd ever been around and he was just beginning to wonder if he'd been picking up the creepy vibes from the wrong kid all along when her body just seemed to slump in on itself and she sat suddenly on the ground, her knees drawn up with a wobbly bottom lip and her big, watery eyes staring up at him and doing strange things to his heart.

"Do you think Carol will really look out for us?" she asked in a tiny voice and he felt himself go soft, melting in a highly unexpected way.

"Aww, hell." Merle squatted down in front of her, resting his blade unobtrusively across his knees and covering it with his hand, keeping it all safe and as unthreatening as he could. "That woman's gonna take care of you so good you'll wonder why you even doubted it."

Mika started crying, alternately watching him and dropping her eyes to the long grass that hid their lower bodies even from their own eyes. "We don't have anybody left," she said between sobs and Merle moved in closer, tipping a finger under her chin and lifting her face so that she could see that what he said was no bullshit.

"We all got each other now," he affirmed, his voice fiercely truthful despite the smile he adopted to try and goad her out of her tears. "Kid, you got Carol, and you got me. An', you got that sister, even if she ain't quite right in the head."

"Merle!"

He spun around so fast he tipped over and fell ungracefully on his ass. "Ain't you got no damn bell you can wear to warn a man when you're comin'?" he griped as he stood and dusted his pants off with his good hand.

"No bells, Merle, but I'll keep it in mind that you need some warning next time I come." She shot him a sassy smirk that went straight to his dick and he stood shocked before her, his mouth hanging wide open and catching a damn swarm of flies.

"Only need warnin' if my back is turned, Sugar," he managed after a beat. "Any other position an' I'm gonna know before you do when you're comin'."

Her hot gaze washed over him like a warm bath and Merle felt the instant prickling of his skin as his body responded, and then she found the front of his pants with her eyes—searing and molten and containing a promise he'd never thought he'd see. He turned from the kid who sat at exactly the wrong angle for him to retain his good reputation and he started striding back to the prison, determined to go get his shower and for once grateful it was going to be cold.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Many apologies for this taking so long to get up. I want to dedicate this chapter to Imorca. She's been such a magnificent help with expanding Merle into a redeemable character, and well, she just deserves all the pretty and happy things. And the Merles of this world, though I would hope she knows how to share :P**

Chapter Three

Dusk fell faster these days. Used to be that this was Merle's favourite time of day, back in the time before the promised kiss of darkness didn't mean having your throat ripped out by sneaky dumb dead bastards that could smell you out before you could work out from which direction they'd come from. Since he'd accepted a home behind the prison fences, however, Merle had allowed himself to remember what it was like to see the sun's last meandering trip across the sky, see the shadows lengthen and darkness sneak up upon the world, begging it to sleep and allow renewal without the world watching. It was a time of peace, when the little brats were shoved off to bed, lovers found time to hide from prying eyes while they worshipped each other's bodies, and boring ass shits like his little brother and the rest of his sorry group of misfits gathered round and talked about absolutely nothing that could hold Merle's interest, even if half the women had told their stories while naked and standing on their heads. Well, maybe he'd review that statement if Carol would shed her top. He was getting to the point where he was about to request permission from his own brother to go on a run just to find that woman a damn bra. Maybe then he wouldn't be walking around the prison with a permanent log of wood in his pants.

This night had fallen a little bit different, especially when compared to the last month when everything was neat and tidy and going off without a hitch. He thought it might be the first night he hadn't spied Beth and Zack trying to run off and find a hiding place to while away the empty hours. Zack was from D Block and Beth was separated into C with the baby that only ever left her hip when Officer Friendly got it into his head to remember he had an infant in his care. More often than not he forgot and it was Carol that took the brat, soothing her to sleep after she'd eaten and then spat out half their provisions. He felt sorry for the blonde, being stuck over there with the kid, but at least she had her family by her side. All Merle had was a brother that was too busy running around so fast his ass actually glowed orange, and a woman who was too stubborn to give him the time of day when Merle already knew she'd be his, if only she'd get tired of the game already and give it up.

The bodies from that morning were in the final stages of interment, not quite six feet beneath the ground, but buried with the last grieving stragglers coming back from the burial site now. Merle had been outside peering across the yard while the sun started to dip lower on the horizon, keeping an eye on Carol as she supported the girls during their final goodbye to their daddy, as well as watching with interest as Rick dismantled his precious pig pen and set the lot to flame. He chuckled meanly when the ex-cop unsnapped his bloodied shirt and tossed it onto the pyre.

"What's your ass doin' out here?" Daryl barked at him as he came around the corner, finding his hidey hole.

"Just watchin'," he said noncommittally. Daryl followed his line of sight and grunted, crouching along the wall beside him.

"Looks more like spyin' if you ask me."

"Good thing I ain't askin' then."

Daryl got comfortable, staring out across the field at Rick, taking in the return of his gun belt and the slumped form grieving over the loss of his ideal.

"Officer Friendly's about to buckle, baby brother. I hope you're up for it when he does."

Daryl sighed loudly, taking off his crossbow before fully leaning back against the wall. "Today's been shit for all of us. Don't blame 'im for feelin' a bit down about it all."

Merle stared at his brother, glinting eyes full of incredulity. "You take a good look at your woman in there today? She's just been saddled with those two girls when she still cries at night for losin' her own flesh and blood. Those kinds of demons never shake loose, but do you see her huddlin' up and cryin' over a pigless pen? That woman's got her shit together. Officer Friendly? He's just about ready to check out completely. He ain't walkin' in the real world with the rest of us. What's Glenn call it? Officer Friendly's too busy walkin' around crazy town."

Daryl hung his head and Merle knew the signs of when his brother was thinking hard on something. Merle knew he was digging, calling Carol Daryl's woman with the hope of some kind of confirmation or denial from his brother so he'd feel a whole lot less guilty taking a step in, but when Daryl finally spoke, he'd ignored that part of the conversation all together.

"Rick'll be fine. We just gotta give him some time."

Merle hissed his frustrating, pushing himself up to his feet. "How much fuckin' time? Asshole's already had six months an' all he's done is plant a pretty impressive field of peas. The fuck is that, brother? Ain't nobody got the luxury of not gettin' their hands dirty round here."

Daryl launched himself to his feet, snatching up his crossbow while he continued to look across the field, squinting at the slowly dying sun. "Yeah, well, ya'll ain't complainin' about the damn peas when you're shovellin' 'em down your gob." He paused, his cheekbones flaming a subtle shade of pink that Merle found intriguing. Until the little upstart opened his mouth and pissed him the hell off. "You need to keep your ass away from Carol. Don't know what kinda game you're playin', but leave her the fuck alone."

He knew his face had contorted into some kind of grimace that might have implied he was amused, but when he tossed the warning around in his head, it just wound him up. The rage stirred within him down low and he pushed off the wall, agitated, flexing his fist before he turned and glared at his brother. He was done tired of all the suspicion that kept being aimed his way, the ill-concealed sneers from the others when they thought he wasn't looking—or the not-so-concealed ones from Glenn even when he was. The only ones giving him anything that looked like a decent chance at this thing were his brother, Michonne and Carol, and even she'd only loosened up on the frowns recently. Enough to think maybe she didn't see him as the total asshole the rest of the world seemed intent to view him as.

"The hell you're tellin' me? Did I see you gettin' your hands dirty in there when those girls lost their daddy?" He hadn't seen Daryl around at all, point of fact, too busy playing hero around the place and pulling Rick's head out of his ass before he ran crying from the cell block. Merle had hung around long enough to see the former leader aim crazy eyes at his brother, flick out his knife in shaking hands, take down a threat and then retreat, looking like someone was haunting his ass. What he'd never seen was Daryl checking in on Carol, the woman he claimed was his best friend in the place.

"That woman needs ya an' if you ain't man enough to give it to her, then maybe the fuck I am," Merle warned with a growl, losing patience with this game they were all playing with him while they waited for him to screw up enough to kick his ass out beyond the fence. "I done everythin' 'round this shithole you call home ever since I got locked up in here. Think I deserve a little somethin' more than bein' warned away like some asshole you barely got feelin' for, let alone your own kin." His nostrils flared as his sense of justice warred with his love and loyalty for his brother, wavering a little toward the woman who was slowly opening up to him but didn't seem to have enough people watching her back.

He sighed, rubbed a weary hand across his face and tried not to sag as exhaustion permeated through his body, carefully keeping his stance confident if not a little aggressive. He clenched his jaw, looked out over the field of pansy-assed peas and tomatoes and realised that his life was about more, now, than himself. It was about more than Daryl, even, and that wonder almost made his heart stop. Never in his life had it been about more than him and Daryl, though he'd managed to shut most of it out with his addictions. Looked like the end of the world brought with it some lessons he was finally man enough to learn. His fascination with Carol bringing with it one of his first. "I ain't gonna hurt her," he promised, his voice rough but low, sincere. Then he looked up, pinned Daryl with a fiery glare filled with determination and an command to listen up and take notes. "World's different now, dipshit. Best you remember that before you go mouthin' off 'bout shit you don't understand."

"Man, she don't need you comin' in and complicatin' things. Carol's got enough on her plate—"

Merle pushed off from the wall and slammed his hand flat onto Daryl's chest. Shoving his brother back a step, Merle panted heavily at the implication that he had nothing to offer. "You gonna step on up, then, Darylena? Can she depend on you to help with those girls?"

Daryl recovered his balance and shoved back, looking less than pleased when Merle barely even rocked back and forth, boots steady on the ground. "The fuck you care about two little girls that got no daddy, Merle?"

A retort died in his throat as he struggled with an answer, struggled with trying to understand himself why he gave two shits about those two little girls and the responsibility he knew Carol was now struggling under by agreeing to take them on as her own. The fight in him abruptly died; he was nearly ready to concede that he wasn't the right kind of man to expend valuable energy worrying about a woman like her, allowing his discomfort about the situation to take himself over and turn him into a man he didn't recognise. But…just because he was delving into dangerous territory, digging into the mystery that was Merle Dixon, it didn't mean he was going to be a pussy about it. He wasn't some dumbass that hid from himself. Yesterday he'd been lusting after Carol like she was the sweetest piece around the prison, and today she was a single-mother ready-made, and contrary to how his past-self might have reacted, this time he wasn't running. He wasn't turning his back, forgetting about the stir of lust he'd begun to feel for her, and instead his whole perspective expanded to see something different, something richer.

He shook his head and chuckled deeply from his chest, the irony of it all not lost on him. She was the kind of woman that didn't just come with a bag of responsibilities, she came with a whole set of luggage, especially now. She'd lost her daughter in the most horrifying way possible, had dealt the best she could with being a mother stripped of her child, but within one crazy, fucked up morning, she'd assumed guardianship for two new brats. At least one of them was a bit off in the head, they'd be lucky if it wasn't both, and yet, he wasn't running. That truth tickled his funny bone something fierce and he sniggered again.

"It's the damn apocalypse, brother. Weren't it you was bustin' a nut tryna tell me we all need people nowadays? Ain't nobody left doin' this shit on their own and survivin'. Specially not no woman an' her kids. She needs someone watchin' her back, an' from where I been sittin', you're still playin' in Officer Friendly's dust."

Daryl was bristling with temper. "Since when did you ever go outta your way to do any damn thing for anyone unless it benefited yourself? You're just gonna bring Carol down, an' I can't let you do that to her. She deserves better."

"Hell, why you gotta be so suspicious, boy? Ya done told me you wanted your brother back an' I been haulin' ass round this place every damn day for months to prove myself to ya'll. You know what? I don't gotta. Fuck you an' your merry bunch a misfits. If I can help Carol, I will. Don't have to explain shit to you."

And he didn't wait around to be tempted to, either. Not that words were what was appealing to him right now. He was sorely tempted to put his only remaining fist right through Daryl's sanctimonious jaw. His brother was all talk and no balls. He'd guessed it way back when, going along to sacrifice Michonne for the good of the group. Rick'd sacrifice his own mother if it kept his dick attached.

Merle stomped off toward his new home in D block, cursing this flu, cursing Rick and cursing Daryl. He was done for the damned day, tired of hearing all their whining about how imperfect their shitty world was, how the tough decisions had to be made and he wasn't the one to make them. He was just tired of it all, tired of suspicion following him around, tired of being the one always on the outside. It'd been months, fucking months and he was just bone tired of all the fucking bullshit. As he rounded the corner, he slammed straight into Carol, sending her careening backwards and almost falling on her ass. He grabbed her before she hit the floor, hauling her roughly back to her feet and grunted as her body weight continued the projectory and collided hard with his solid frame. He let go his grip on her arm, his hand settling to the small of her back as he held her against his body, not even fighting his natural reaction. She stared at him, eyes wide and shocked, but she didn't move. They stood in a vacuum and all he heard was heavy breathing, rapid heartbeats and his blood roaring in his ears as she tipped her head up and slowly, slowly moved in. Her lips came to rest against his, not moving except around whispered words he had too much cotton wool in his ears to even hear accurately. And then she was gone and he was left with a boner on embarrassing display in his pants.


End file.
